


i bleed when i fall down

by evenmyneck (stopmopingstarthoping)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Universe, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:21:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21589867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmopingstarthoping/pseuds/evenmyneck
Summary: Who heals the healer?Mercedes and Sylvain share a quiet moment after a battle.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier & Mercedes von Martritz, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Mercedes von Martritz
Comments: 6
Kudos: 79





	i bleed when i fall down

Their last battle had been cold and hopeless, rain streaming down and sticking their hair to their faces, not so much washing the blood away as smearing it, and chilling them all to the bone. Despite it all, Mercedes had been characteristically present, darting between them on the field and constantly looking over her shoulder, pale hair darkened to a light brown by the rivulets coursing down her cheeks.

Her sharp cry as she’d pushed a staggering, recovering Felix out of the path of an arrow still rang in Sylvain’s mind as he made his way down the row of first-floor dormitory rooms. His shoulder protested loudly when, unthinking, he slapped his palm against one of the wooden columns like always. 

Mercedes had told him to take it easy, as she'd wrapped it carefully, her light touch somehow never adding to the discomfort—okay, _pain_ —of battlefield injuries. 

“Axe wounds are no joke, I mean it,” she’d scolded him quietly, sending another cooling wash of healing magic through her fingertips, tingling over Sylvain’s skin.

He’d tossed it off with a flippant comment, one that he couldn’t quite recall right now; whether it was the ebbing post-battle chaos clouding his memory or the piercing look in her periwinkle eyes, he wasn’t sure. That expression did always seem to look right through him, he knew that. In an almost unconscious motion of deflection in response to the thought, Sylvain lightened his step and jogged down the stairs toward the greenhouse, despite several of his muscles screaming at him not to do so.

At the paved path in front of the rooms, an unexpected sound halted his jaunty trot to a slower, more inquisitive step. Was that— 

It was definitely crying, and it seemed to be coming from Mercedes’ room. A hesitant feeling of possibly intruding flashed and went as soon as it came; Sylvain’s natural instinct to just be _present_ in his friends’ lives took over in a swift moment.

He barely touched his knuckles to the door in a whisper of a knock.

“Mercedes? Let me in, okay?” 

“It’s open.” Her voice was small, contrasting with the flurry of her shouted commands earlier in the day, and she sounded tired.

The deep weariness was evident the moment Sylvain swung the door open, and the sight of her tore at his heart. He’d grasped Mercedes’ cold hands in his own before he realized it.

“What’s going on?” Sylvain’s voice was soft, trying to soothe Mercedes and draw her out at the same time. He scanned over her form quickly, worried. “Did you get hurt and not tell me?” _Tell_ us _, tell_ anyone _, this isn’t about you_ , his thoughts scolded, but too late, it was out.

She tried to smile up at him and the crooked shape of her lips broke his heart again. 

“Oh, no. I’m not injured. You don’t have to worry.” 

She burst into tears again, and it was clear that it wasn’t the time for words. Sylvain gently drew her hands toward the middle of his chest and laid a hand, questioning, on her shoulder.

Mercedes hit the middle of his chest with a thump that made warmth radiate out from where she nestled into his shirt, still weeping. Sylvain just held her close and buried his nose in her hair, which was half-dried in slightly curling tendrils. He spread his hands over her back, providing silent comfort.

She closed her eyes and more tears seeped through thick, dark eyelashes as she let out a long, shuddering sigh. Several minutes passed as her sobs subsided into smaller, quieter hiccups. Soon those eyes were peeking up at him, slightly sheepish.

“I’m so sorry; your shirt’s all wet.” She gave him a funny little frown but didn’t pull all the way back.

“Everything’s damp, today. It’s all right.” _I’ve suffered more than a wet shirt to get a beautiful woman like you in my arms_ rang in his head, but for once his asinine mouth remained shut when it was appropriate. The thought that the flattery was more than true lingered.

Her crying had waned, but Mercedes stayed nestled in Sylvain's arms. She tucked her head down against his chest again and he wondered if his heart made an audible sound when it leapt awkwardly sideways. 

"Thank you. It's all a lot, sometimes. You know." She shrugged, and sniffled, looking up at him. "I guess this is just the way I deal with it."

“You do this after every battle?” She’d spent hours caring for all of their injuries and making sure everyone was comfortable, and Sylvain felt guilty that he hadn’t realized how much that took from her. The words came out rough, and he cleared his throat to cover it up. 

She nodded. "It doesn't hurt me to cry, you know." She snuggled slightly deeper. "But I'll be honest, having a friend to comfort me is wonderful." 

His jaw set and he felt his shoulders settle back minutely, without letting go of Mercedes. Their team had established a number of routines both before and after a conflict, and he'd just added one more thing to the list. 

From then on, every battle's aftermath would find Sylvain trailing to Mercedes' room, holding her or talking with her or just being quietly near her as she put the pieces of herself back together. 

It wasn't until much later— months, years, maybe?—that Sylvain realized how much he had needed those moments for himself, as well: a place to be calm and quiet and protect. To be needed, seen for the fierceness of how he cared for his friends and the capacity he had to love and be loved, and nothing else.

That little dormitory room on the first floor of the monastery had proven to be Sylvain’s sanctuary as well. 

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I hadn't watched their A support yet when I wrote this, and didn't intend to write the flip side of it, but I think it worked out nicely.


End file.
